Tokkenoht sighed and looked at the warriors around her. She could see it in their eyes. They were all thinking the same thing: a female had no business in a scouting party. Of course none of them had said it to Hsrandtuss. The worst thing about it was that Tokkenoht agreed with them. She no more wanted to be wandering around the forest with a hundred warriors than they wanted her with them. Of course she hadn’t said anything to the king either.

“We are ready, Your Eminence,” said Szerl, the veteran warrior that was her second in command.

Tokkenoht nodded in agreement, but also in recognition. There was more in the eyes of the warriors than just the unusualness of having a female with them. There was anger at having a female in command. Hsrandtuss was clear though. With Straatin having been killed in the attempted coup, and with Slechtiss out of favor, having lost the king’s trust, Tusskiqu was needed in the city to command the mainline troops. That meant that there was no trusted battle commander to scout the area for any humans trying to sneak into the territory.

“I need you to do this, Tokkenoht,” he had said. “You and Sirris must be my eyes and ears.”

There was only one acceptable answer: “Yes, Great King.”

“We will cross the river and follow the other side,” she told Szerl.

It had been an entire month since the four human prisoners had escaped and weeks since the rest of the soft-skins had been driven out of Yessonarah’s territory. In recent days though, nearly a dozen humans had been captured sneaking back in. The lure of gold was simply too strong for them to resist.

The river was called Scizzinik, and was neither very wide nor very deep, except during the rainy season. It marked the official edge of the territory of Yessonarah. Once the party reached the bank, a quick determination was made than none of the fifty-foot-long Birmisian crocodiles was present. Neither were there any of the giant salamanders that often inhabited the still pools and shallows. Satisfied, the lizardmen, strong swimmers that they were, quickly crossed the waterway.

“Four teams, spread out following a ninety degree arc. The rest of us will make for the round hill to the northwest,” said Tokkenoht. “That is where we will rendezvous. We’ll set up camp there tonight.”

The four groups of ten warriors each set off in a pattern designed to cover all the land on the other side of the river that faced the human lands. Meanwhile the other sixty marched toward the hill. It was about five miles from their crossing space, so they arrived in short order and began setting up a semi-permanent base of operations. They had just cleared a large circle, setting up a crude fence of dead brush, when one of the four search teams returned.

“Why are you back so soon?” asked the priestess. “Did you see humans?”

“Yes,” said the warrior in charge, rolling his eyes around, “but not the ones we were looking for.”

“How many were there? Describe them.”

“There were at least two hundred. They were painted alike, and they all carried thunder weapons.”

“A war party?” questioned Tokkenoht. “How were they painted?”

“Their feathers… or whatever the humans have…”

“Cloth.” Tokkenoht used the human word. “What about it?”

“It was a sort of pale green color. Every one of them had the same color on, and they all wore hard hats.”

“All right. Take five of your men and head for Yessonarah immediately. The Great King will want to know about this.”

“What will you do, Your Eminence?”

“We will be watching the humans, to see what they are doing. As soon as we know and the other teams check in, we will follow. Szerl, your opinion?”

“You are right,” he said grudgingly. “We must wait for the other patrols. In the meantime, have the men bury their rations and anything else we don’t need. That way we can move faster.”

“Yes,” she said. “Give the order.”

By the time the others had returned, the warriors had cached their food and extra equipment, leaving each with only his sword, three small spears and his atlatl throwing stick. Tokkenoht questioned each of the returning groups. One had seen the humans.

“They are moving along the south side of the river in the general direction of our territory,” the team leader told her. “They are not in attack formation. They walk in a column, about two miles to the southwest. We need to be careful. They are observant, not like the other humans we’ve seen.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, we watched them from far away and from a screened position among the trees.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s be on our way.”

The large party retraced their footsteps down the hill and to the river. They had barely crossed to the other side when the air suddenly echoed with the sounds of thunder weapons. Several warriors fell bleeding to the ground. Szerl grabbed Tokkenoht and dragged her to the ground as well.

“Where are they?” She shouted to be heard over what sounded like a thunderstorm from hell.

“Over there!” Szerl pointed to their left. “Although how they got there, I have no idea.”

“Spears!” he shouted.

There was a knock.

“Come in,” said Lady Iolana.

The door opened and her father peered inside. He paused for a second, seeing her still in bed, but then he closed the door behind him and stepped across the room to take a seat in the comfy chair by the fireplace.

“It’s unusual for you to be in bed at this hour,” he said. “Not ill, are you?”

“No. I’m just being indolent.”

“Well, you are entitled, I suppose. It’s not everyday you turn fourteen.”

“No, it isn’t, but it seems like my birthday comes quicker every year.”

“Wait until you’re my age,” he said. “They fly at you like freight trains. We missed you at breakfast.”

“Esther brought me breakfast in bed. But I’m about ready to get up and about now.”

“What are your plans today?”

Iolana pulled the book, heretofore unnoticed from her side, and placed a silver bookmark between its pages before setting it on the nightstand.

“We are having our little get-together tonight, and I have a date for tea with Dovie. I thought I would visit some friends this morning.”

Mr. Staff stood up and walked over to the bedside. He picked up the book as if he was reading the cover, though he didn’t really look at it.

“You’re a very busy young lady,” he said. “I suppose you soon won’t have any time for me at all.”

“Don’t be silly, Father. We’re going hunting three days hence. We have to get that therizinosaurus that you’ve been after. Besides, we’ll see each other tonight.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. Setting the book back down, he turned and walked to the door. He paused to look back over his shoulder. “You have a present waiting for you downstairs.”

“I can’t wait,” she said with a smile.

As soon as Mr. Staff left, Esther entered. She was wearing a cheerful blue sundress.

“Have you decided what you want to wear?” she asked.

“I don’t want to clash with you,” said Iolana. “Perhaps my teal skirt, with a white blouse. Do I have a teal tie?”

“Yes, but you don’t have a matching hat.”

“Find a bit of teal lace and put it around my white boater. I’m sure Auntie Yuah has some if I don’t.”

Thirty minutes later, properly attired, Iolana and Esther descended the stairs. As usual for that time of day, Kayden was manning the front door. He opened it and ushered them outside. Sitting right in front of the portico was a new Sawyer and Sons model 12b steam carriage with a large red bow attached to its shiny sky blue bonnet.

“Golly!” exclaimed Iolana.

“Do you like it?” asked her father’s voice from behind her.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you so much!”

“An important young lady like yourself needs to be able to get around reliably.”

“Is there room for it in the motor shed?” wondered Iolana.

“Yes,” replied her father. “I’ve sold the Model 5, and I’m going to sell the cabriolet as well. Now that you have this, no one will drive it.”

“What about me?” asked a scratchy little voice from behind them.

“You’re a few years away from driving,” said Mr. Staff, stepping aside to reveal Terra in a white walking dress and a daisy-covered white hat. “I promise though, that when you’re old enough to drive, I’ll buy you your own car as well.”

“You don’t mind if I come along with you, do you?” the ten-year-old asked her cousin.

“Of course not,” said Iolana, hurrying over to the driver’s side of the vehicle.

She quickly climbed aboard, while Terra took the front passenger’s seat and Esther climbed into the back.

“This is lovely,” said the lizzie.

“I know.” Iolana gripped the steering wheel and peered through the windscreen. “I wonder how fast she’ll go?”

“She won’t go at all with a cold boiler,” said Mr. Staff with a laugh. “Let me light it for you.”

He stepped around to the rear of the car and applied a match to the tinder beneath the coal. Then he stepped around to Iolana’s side.

“It has plenty of water in it and coal too, so just as soon as it’s hot, you can go. Just keep to a manageable speed.” With that advice, he took the bow off the bonnet and then walked back up the steps and into the house.

Iolana looked at the array of controls at her feet. Rather than the three simple pedals in the cabriolet, there were five: forward and reverse accelerators, forward and reverse decelerators, and the clutch. Then there were the hand controls: the brake and the gearshift. She ran her fingertips around the steering wheel, and smiled.

“I think I’ll name you Tsisia,” she said.

“Oh, that’s a good name,” said Terra. “The lizzie word for of the sky.”

“Are you ready?” Iolana looked first at Esther and then Terra. Both nodded.

With what seemed like a practiced hand, she pressed down on the brake lever. Then she threw the gearshift forward while pressing her feet down on the clutch and the forward decelerator. As she slowly let out the clutch, she transferred her right foot from the forward decelerator to the forward accelerator. The blue steam carriage rolled forward.

Tokkenoht sighed and looked at the warriors around her. She could see it in their eyes. They were all thinking the same thing: a female had no business in a scouting party. Of course none of them had said it to Hsrandtuss. The worst thing about it was that Tokkenoht agreed with them. She no more wanted to be wandering around the forest with a hundred warriors than they wanted her with them. Of course she hadn’t said anything to the king either.

“We are ready, Your Eminence,” said Szerl, the veteran warrior that was her second in command.

Tokkenoht nodded in agreement, but also in recognition. There was more in the eyes of the warriors than just the unusualness of having a female with them. There was anger at having a female in command. Hsrandtuss was clear though. With Straatin having been killed in the attempted coup, and with Slechtiss out of favor, having lost the king’s trust, Tusskiqu was needed in the city to command the mainline troops. That meant that there was no trusted battle commander to scout the area for any humans trying to sneak into the territory.

“I need you to do this, Tokkenoht,” he had said. “You and Sirris must be my eyes and ears.”

There was only one acceptable answer: “Yes, Great King.”

“We will cross the river and follow the other side,” she told Szerl.

It had been an entire month since the four human prisoners had escaped and weeks since the rest of the soft-skins had been driven out of Yessonarah’s territory. In recent days though, nearly a dozen humans had been captured sneaking back in. The lure of gold was simply too strong for them to resist.

The river was called Scizzinik, and was neither very wide nor very deep, except during the rainy season. It marked the official edge of the territory of Yessonarah. Once the party reached the bank, a quick determination was made than none of the fifty-foot-long Birmisian crocodiles was present. Neither were there any of the giant salamanders that often inhabited the still pools and shallows. Satisfied, the lizardmen, strong swimmers that they were, quickly crossed the waterway.

“Four teams, spread out following a ninety degree arc. The rest of us will make for the round hill to the northwest,” said Tokkenoht. “That is where we will rendezvous. We’ll set up camp there tonight.”

The four groups of ten warriors each set off in a pattern designed to cover all the land on the other side of the river that faced the human lands. Meanwhile the other sixty marched toward the hill. It was about five miles from their crossing space, so they arrived in short order and began setting up a semi-permanent base of operations. They had just cleared a large circle, setting up a crude fence of dead brush, when one of the four search teams returned.

“Why are you back so soon?” asked the priestess. “Did you see humans?”

“Yes,” said the warrior in charge, rolling his eyes around, “but not the ones we were looking for.”

“How many were there? Describe them.”

“There were at least two hundred. They were painted alike, and they all carried thunder weapons.”

“A war party?” questioned Tokkenoht. “How were they painted?”

“Their feathers… or whatever the humans have…”

“Cloth.” Tokkenoht used the human word. “What about it?”

“It was a sort of pale green color. Every one of them had the same color on, and they all wore hard hats.”

“All right. Take five of your men and head for Yessonarah immediately. The Great King will want to know about this.”

“What will you do, Your Eminence?”

“We will be watching the humans, to see what they are doing. As soon as we know and the other teams check in, we will follow. Szerl, your opinion?”

“You are right,” he said grudgingly. “We must wait for the other patrols. In the meantime, have the men bury their rations and anything else we don’t need. That way we can move faster.”

“Yes,” she said. “Give the order.”

By the time the others had returned, the warriors had cached their food and extra equipment, leaving each with only his sword, three small spears and his atlatl throwing stick. Tokkenoht questioned each of the returning groups. One had seen the humans.

“They are moving along the south side of the river in the general direction of our territory,” the team leader told her. “They are not in attack formation. They walk in a column, about two miles to the southwest. We need to be careful. They are observant, not like the other humans we’ve seen.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, we watched them from far away and from a screened position among the trees.”

“Good,” she said. “Let’s be on our way.”

The large party retraced their footsteps down the hill and to the river. They had barely crossed to the other side when the air suddenly echoed with the sounds of thunder weapons. Several warriors fell bleeding to the ground. Szerl grabbed Tokkenoht and dragged her to the ground as well.

“Where are they?” She shouted to be heard over what sounded like a thunderstorm from hell.

“Over there!” Szerl pointed to their left. “Although how they got there, I have no idea.”

“Spears!” he shouted.

“Ack!” said Senta, blowing water out of her nose.

Szim rose to the surface of the little pool that was the lizzie bathtub and circled around her like an alligator.

“No fair! How am I supposed to keep up without a tail?”

Senta was not a strong swimmer even by human standards, having had little opportunity to swim, growing up first in a large city with few clean waterways, and then in a primordial land in which every body of water held frightful predators.

The lizzie submerged briefly and then shot out of the water so quickly that she was able to land feet first on the stone edging. She reached down a clawed hand, and pulled the human female from the water.

“Frogs swim very well, and they have no tail.”

“Do I look like a frog to you?”

The lizzie tilted her head, looking at the human with one eye.

“Oh very funny.”

“Come, I will paint you,” said Szim.

A table in the corner of the room served as a sort of vanity for reptilians, and was stocked with pigments that the lizzies used to decorate their bodies. Two days earlier, Szim had convinced Senta to let her paint her body, and since then she had spent her time naked but for a bit of red, black, and yellow body paint. After all, she reasoned, there were no other humans within a hundred miles, and the lizzies could hardly tell the difference. There was no one to be scandalized and no one to accuse her of going native. Though Szim had tried several designs, she had at last settled on outlining or emphasizing the sigils already imprinted on the sorceress’s body. Senta had fourteen sigils, sort of magical tattoos, adorning her body. Up and down her front were twelve two-inch stars, while on her back were two images of Bessemer, one with open wings that covered both shoulder blades, and one of the young dragon curled up and sleeping in the small of her back. They were the result of creation and summoning magic.

“Okay, my turn,” said Senta, when Szim was done.

She used the same cups of paint to draw designs on the lizzie—red stars surrounded by yellow up and down her back and a large yellow happy face on her belly.

“It is too much,” said Szim. “I’m not important enough to have so much paint.”

“Nonsense. You’re the close personal friend of the most powerful sorceress in the world.” She stopped and looked around.

“What?” wondered the lizzie.

“Just checking to see if someone was going to pop up to contradict me. Oh well. Come on. Let’s go down and eat.”

Szarine had finished setting the table and the food looked delicious. At Senta’s direction, the cuisine had improved greatly over the past week or so. Now boiled eggs and poached fish sat beside fruit salad and a mashed tuber that was almost a potato. The lizzie cook joined them at the table and the three of them began passing the dishes and filling their plates.

“What do you want to do today?” asked Szim. “I don’t think there is anything to show you in the entire complex that you haven’t already seen. Maybe we could climb the mountain.”

“Hmm. Or maybe we could hunt down Khastla and torture him until he calls that stupid dragon home.”

Both the lizzies rolled their eyes in shock.

“You mustn’t say such things!” said Szim. “The god cannot be summoned!”

“Don’t I know it, or he would be here already.”

“Khastla says the god is asleep in Tsahloose,” said Szarine.

“I’ve been waiting here an entire fortnight.”

“Hissussisthiss used to sleep for months,” said Szim.

“Bessemer’s not as big or old as Hissussisthiss was,” said Senta. “It hasn’t been that long since I used to dress him up in my doll’s clothes.”

“You still have your little goddess,” Szim pointed out.

“Yes, I do.” Senta frowned. “You know, I think it’s been four days since I saw her. She’s never been away from me for more than two before. I should scry her and see what trouble she’s into.”

“After that, we can go mountain climbing,” said Szim.

When she had finished eating, Senta left the two lizzies, and climbed the stairs to the bedchamber. Along the way, she stopped and picked up a washbowl from the bathroom and filled it with water. Once upstairs, she placed the bowl and the floor and sat down cross-legged in front of it. The magical art of scrying, observing something or someone from across time and space, wasn’t something that Senta specialized in, but it was simple enough, as divination magic went.

“Uuthanum,” she said, but nothing happened.

“Uuthanum,” she said again.

The water remained transparent and completely unremarkable.

“Uuthanum eetarri.” She touched her finger to the water, and still nothing.

“Kafira’s tits!” Senta growled. It had been a long time since anything had foiled her magic.

The lizzies carried the large cogs, springs, and sprockets out of the building and stacked them in the back of the task lorry. The copper and steel parts all looked so normal, like the pieces of a very large clock. But Wizard Peter Bassington could feel the magic radiating off of them like heat from a fireplace. They were parts of the great machine built many years before by Professor Merced Calliere—the Result Mechanism. A huge steam-powered machine designed to add, subtract, multiply, and divide large numbers very quickly, the Result Mechanism plotted out water and sewer lines, created projectile trajectory charts, predicted the movement of the planets, and determined the optimum paths for the city’s trolley lines. It could in fact, compute any series of numbers for any purpose, including creating magic spells. Wizardry was at its heart, nothing but mathematics.

Anyone who could master advanced mathematics could become a wizard, memorizing the abstract formulas for the eldritch forces that were bent to one’s will. Wizards set these formulas in their brains like a housewife set a rattrap. Then with a single gesture and word, they released the magic. Once that was done, they had to reset the mathematical formula again. Sorcerers on the other hand, did magic without arithmetic. They could detect the magic in the world around them and tap into it naturally. No one could learn to be a sorcerer. You were either born one or you weren’t. For that reason, there might be thousands of wizards in the Kingdom of Greater Brechalon, but fewer than a handful of sorcerers.

Several wizards had used the result mechanism to formulate spells. As a result, magical energy was drawn to the building housing the great computer. For years, the machine stewed in the magic soup, until it became dangerous—perhaps even sentient. Senta had put it to sleep and now Peter was disassembling it and melting down the individual parts.

“All right! That’s enough for this load!” he called to the lizzies.

The one who could understand Brech signaled to the others and they climbed into the rear of the task lorry with the machine parts. Peter locked the solid oak door of the building with a large padlock.

“You must have just about all of it by now.”

Peter turned to see the pasty, emaciated form of Wizard Bell, in his seemingly oversized blue police uniform, complete with hexagram.

“Good day, Wizard Bell.”

“Wizard Bassington.”

“I seem to run into you fairly often on this side of town.”

“Police constable,” he said, pointing at his uniform.

“I didn’t realize that police wizards walked a tour.”

Bell shrugged.

“Yes,” said Peter. “I think one more load, and it will be all taken care of. Sorry to see it go?”

“No, of course not. Can’t have dangerous magical artifacts falling into the wrong hands. What is your sister planning to do with the building?”

“I don’t know. I suppose she’ll have to work that out with the governor.”

“Right,” said Bell, giving a thin-lipped smile. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

He turned and strolled north. Peter looked around for a moment and then spotted one of Szoristru’s lizzies. Peter was still paying them to watch the police wizard, though they had yet to find anything worthwhile. Climbing into the lorry’s cab, he nodded to the driver, who in turn, started the engine.

It took over an hour to drive across town to the foundry. The large metal-casting factory, a massive building at the southern edge of the city, had only been completed the previous summer. It wouldn’t come into full production mode until spring was well on, and the iron ore that was being mined by the lizzies arrived by train from the mountains. For that reason, it had been relatively easy to rent the facility. Most of what had been the Result Mechanism was stacked just inside the main entrance—now just so many bars of copper and steel.

By the time the lizzies finished unloading the lorry, the sun was sinking toward the western horizon. Mr. Flint, the foundry manager, stepped over to where Peter was supervising.

“We can stoke up the furnace and get started on these now, but we’ll run into evening overtime.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best if we wait until tomorrow,” said the young wizard. “I have an engagement this evening, and I really should go home and get cleaned up.”

Mr. Flint nodded, and hurried off to see to the closing of the factory for the night.

“Lance, can you give me a lift home?” Peter asked the driver, who nodded to the affirmative.

“More work tomorrow, same place,” he told the lizzies, peeling off a five mark note for each, double for the interpreter.”

Then he climbed back into the lorry cab and the vehicle zoomed up the street.

“Home in time for dinner,” said Baxter, when he passed through the parlor. “That’s something new.”

“Just stopped by to clean up and change clothes. I’ve got a date with Abby tonight.”

“I like that girl. Shame she had to end up with you.”

Tokkenoht walked wearily toward the hearth room, intent on nothing more than plopping down on her sleeping mat and letting blessed sleep take her. She stopped short when Szakhandu, who was standing beside the doorway, held up her hand.

“What is it?”

“Don’t go in yet. Hsrandtuss is mating with Ssu.”

“Again?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “The king wants to mate… he needs to, and neither of us is ready. Kendra doesn’t want to and so that leaves Ssu. I wish I was ready.”

“Why is that, do you suppose?” muttered Tokkenoht.

“Why what? Why do I want to mate? Or why doesn’t Kendra?”

“No. Why are you and I not ready? This isn’t our first season.”

“I have an opinion,” said Szakhandu.

Tokkenoht motioned for her to continue.

“I think it is stress.”

“What is stressing us? We have plenty to eat and drink.”

“Mental stress. You are high priestess and I am chief diplomat. I don’t know about you, but this whole mess with the humans is worrying my tail.”

“You’re not on about that again, are you?” growled Hsrandtuss, his bulk suddenly filling the doorway. “I’ve sent a message to the human city. Either they can pay a ransom, or I will mark humans’ tails and banish them. We should hear back from them by the next bright face.”

“Great King,” said Szakhandu. “I hesitate to point it out, but the soft-skins have no tails for you to mark.”

“Well figure out a place for me to mark them!” he hissed, pushing past them. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

“The humans mark thieves here,” said Tokkenoht, pointing to the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. Then she stepped through the doorway and collapsed on her mat, asleep in seconds.

The high priestess jerked awake when someone grabbed hold of her. She thought she was being attacked for a moment, but when she opened her eyes, it was only Szakhandu.

“What? Why are you waking me?”

“You have slept late. It is past the morning meal.”

“So?”

“The prisoners want to speak to you.”

“What prisoners?” wondered Tokkenoht.

“The human prisoners—the soft-skins.”

“Why do they want to talk to me?” she wondered. “How do they even know me?”

“They want to talk to the high priestess,” said Szakhandu. “You are the high priestess, aren’t you?”

“All right, all right. Paint me, and then have Kendra meet me at their cell.”

“She is already there,” said Szakhandu, pulling her toward the paint.

A few minutes later, with the smallest amount of paint acceptable, but wearing her feathered cape, Tokkenoht allowed her fellow royal wife to lead her down to the holding cells. Two large males guarded the door, but opened it for the two of them. Inside, they found another guard and Kendra, along with the four human prisoners. They looked well enough and had been allowed to clean themselves daily, but the hair on their faces had grown, making them seem much more animal-like.

“Good morning, wife of my husband,” said Tokkenoht to Kendra. “Are you gravid with eggs yet?”

“I think I might be. I have no appetite.”

“Yes, that is a sure sign.” She looked at the prisoners. “Now, what is it that they want?”

Kendra turned and spoke the lyrical language of the humans. To the lizzies, it sounded like the calls of small birds. The humans answered, sometimes talking over one another. They talked far longer than the priestess had expected, until Kendra finally raised her hand for them to stop.

“These two are eggs from the same female.” She pointed to two of the humans. “They have the same name—Tardut, that’s as close as I can pronounce it anyway. This one’s name is Neiers, and that one is Grissinski. He is the one that has much to say to you. He says that our god will not like him being imprisoned. He says that Yessonar will punish us if he is not released.”

“Tell him it is I who speak for the god here and not him. Tell them all that we have sent word about them to the human city. We will know their answer in another ten days or so.”

Kendra spoke the human tongue again and Grissinski answered, loudly, waving his arms.

“He threatens great destruction.”

Tokkenoht reached past Kendra and shoved the human. He crashed into the wall and slid down to the floor. She had heard that some of the humans were fierce warriors, but this was not one of them, she decided.

“Ask the other three if there is anything they need.”

“They say they need more food,” Kendra translated. “They say we feed them only half of what they need.”

“That is probably true,” said Tokkenoht. “They are warm-blooded and so their bodies need more fuel. Tell them we will have more food brought.”